Running a Dojo: A Commitment to Preserving Tradition

By Adam Mitchell

This is the book martial art business consultants don’t want you reading. Written by a former martial arts industry insider, Adam Mitchell delivers an overwhelming amount of actionable content for anybody with the desire to run a traditional martial arts school without compromising their integrity or tradition. “A great book for those hard working dojo instructors who are looking for ways to provide better quality instruction, and how to market that value without compromising their core values.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Feb 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781483495149

Book preview

MITCHELL

Copyright © 2019 Adam Mitchell.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-9515-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-9514-9 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 1/21/2019

Laura,

The lessons I have recorded in this book, and whatever inspiration readers may take from it, would not have been possible without your patience, selfless support and love through the years. You alone know the story that exists between each line, and for that I am deeply grateful.

Adam

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Author teaching kodachi-dori, short sword

Netherlands, 2011

Introduction

Greetings, my name is Manaka Unsui. I began learning Kobudo at the age of 14 and this is now my 60th year of training. I would like to tell you why I have continued to train Japanese traditional martial arts over such a long period of time.

A casual glance at Kobudo will cause most people to conclude that it is just another kind of martial art that uses both armed and unarmed combat, however it actually helps to refine a person. The ultimate purpose of Kobudo is to foster a person who is doing all things in harmony. In other words, using force only as a last resort. The act of exchanging different positions or ideas between people in a fair and equitable way can be quite difficult.

The history of mankind is the history of war in my opinion. In order to gain an advantage in warfare a great many different kinds of weapons have been developed and improved. This continues with no real end in sight. This is why those that teach Japanese martial arts seek to use fighting as a base to build up the human spirit, not to inflame the blood with passion for war but to develop the ability to look at things clearly and calmly. Japanese Kobudo seeks to teach students to avoid acting rashly and blindly.

Therefore, even in our modern era, those of us that teach martial arts seek to polish the technical martial ability of students while simultaneously studying a great variety of topics in order to better ourselves as people. This is a continuous process of training. While on this path I suddenly realized over 60 years have flowed by since I began training. However, I don’t feel that my training is finished. Actually, I feel that not being able to see the end of the path is a good thing. Staying focused on training without being able to see the end of the road is a good state of mind to train in.

Adam Michell Sensei who is a Rokudan in Jissen Kobudo has been training with me diligently for over 18 years. Not only is he technically skilled but he also has developed into a man with a marvelous spirit. Truly a man among men.

This book that Adam has written follows many of the principles that I teach. It will of course be of great value to martial arts practitioners, but I sincerely believe it would also serve as a guidebook of important concepts for those who do not practice Budo.

Finally, I would like to thank you all for taking the time to read this brief introduction I have written. Having the chance to express my thoughts to you is a great blessing for me and I thank Adam for giving me this chance.

With hands joined in prayer, I thank you very much.

Unsui

Foreword

We live in a time when information travels at the speed of light, decisions are made on impulse more than any other period in history, and we’re constantly challenged by a struggling economic landscape. Meanwhile, we turn a blind eye to what is going on in our society. While we always mean to do what’s right, the preoccupation with keeping up, getting the bills paid, getting one step ahead, or even just taking a rest takes priority most of the time. I think we all have a natural desire to do what’s right with the best of intentions, we just get blown off course too easily these days.

We’re also living in a time unlike any other, where the simple need for personal interaction to solve a problem has been reduced to the click of a mouse. Fun involves getting dirty less and less. Surely I don’t dispute that the ever decreasing presence of a sound family structure is wreaking havoc on the values our kids grow up with, but a kid can’t even get dirty without being diagnosed with something these days.

As our communities move in a direction we can all so easily complain about while sipping a four dollar cup of coffee with a colleague at work, we begin to appreciate increasingly those fixtures in society that have been unmoved by the discord of modern times. We appreciate those people and places that haven’t given in to changing cultures, that have stood strong and preserved their dignity through the years in order to hand it with honor to the next generation. When it comes right down to it, we respect that. And what we respect, we yearn to have an association with. We all want to belong, and what better to belong to than that which possesses nobility and timeless character. By being part of it, we believe we’ll be recognized and respected along with it long after we’ve gone. For me, this defines a great purpose in life. Is my deep motivation and commitment to Budo based on the legacy I can leave to my grandchildren?

I think so.

These are the things becoming more scarce in today’s life, yet it’s something we all long for and appreciate when we do experience it. There is no person who has ever walked into my Dojo and not said Wow. Not because I’m great (hardly!), and not because of the martial arts I teach. Rather, it’s because I’ve taken no shortcuts to provide an environment that takes a person back to classical Japan. The smell is ancient, the sounds are foreign, and the antiques that decorate the school are an actual part of the history of our school’s culture. People who have no interest whatsoever in training, who may just happen into the Dojo with a friend or family member, find their senses overcome by a sense of timeless place. They talk about what they saw to someone that day, and remember it the next. For that moment they are part of something older, possibly even greater than themselves. It’s an experience that’s missing from most people’s lives, and we can provide it for them on a daily basis:

• A traditional Dojo invites you to be a part of a local and global community.

• A traditional Dojo shares and celebrates its ancient traditions with a new generation.

• A traditional Dojo offers a break from a disposable culture, providing lasting knowledge, experiences, and memories.

• A traditional Dojo is a safe place for children and adults to grow and learn.

• And at the same time, the art of running a successful traditional Dojo can be a demanding and rewarding lifestyle for those who choose to take this path.

Running a Dojo isn’t like maintaining any other business. In many ways, it requires you to train as diligently as you might in your chosen marital art. It requires the same level of dedication, devotion, and drive to succeed.

This book doesn’t provide you with a turnkey business, and any other book or consultant claiming that they will is writing checks they can’t cash. If you’re looking to get rich quick, find shortcuts, or any other workarounds to avoid the hard stuff, sorry, you’re out of luck.

But if you’re in this for the long haul? If you want to learn how to have a meaningful and positive impact on your community, and the world at large, while also benefiting your quality of life and upholding your commitment to Budo?

Let’s get started.

chapter1.jpg

Author training under his teacher, Unsui Sensei

Honbu Dojo, Noda-shi, Japan 2009

Section I

A Humble Success

Discovering the purpose behind teaching traditional martial arts, the measurement of true success within the western Dojo, and building a legacy to be remembered.

1

My Story

I left high school during my Junior year and looked to the streets for an education. It was nothing more than passion for life and a willingness not to bend that got me to where I was at 26. Newly married to a girl way out of my league, I had a cushy job as the Metropolitan New York sales manager for one of the largest brand-name bicycle and fitness companies in the world and I was studying traditional Japanese martial arts alongside sixty students who really looked up to me. Things for this aging, tattoo-covered punk-rock street kid couldn’t have been going better. I was a cyclist, so working for in the bike industry at such a level was an absolute dream come true. I rolled in a slick Toyota 4Runner with a bottomless gas card, all provided by the company. There was more money than I could spend. The small Dojo I was helping run was growing day by day and classes were filled with ambitious students. I was doing it my way, the way I’d grown up dreaming about. Screw the expectations of my parents or anybody else, I’d find success on my own terms..

At the time, I was working with an older guy named Ron who taught martial arts locally. This was the kind of fellow who bragged about his time in Viet Nam as a Navy SEAL and told stories about how he saw countless horrors in combat while stuck behind enemy lines. He also told stories to students about his Japanese step-father and his attachment to the Black Dragon Society. We met when I started training in his studio, which was across the street from the bicycle factory I was working at when I first moved to New York. After a few months of training, he invited me to teach his kids classes. I loved working with kids, so of course I took him up on his offer, plus he agreed to waive my $40 per month tuition. With my involvement, the studio grew and grew.

Ron and I were not formal business partners. In other words, there was nothing in contract and it was solely his business. It was just a handshake and, as it would turn out, some misplaced trust on my part. So there was no reason to call him out on the ridiculous stories that he told students, it was his space after all, and I was busy working with my own kids class. Besides, he spent most of his time in the back room of the studio chain smoking, coughing and counting money. It hadn’t been a big deal to me to formalize our partnership at the time. Why would it be? I already had a job and taught as a love for the Budo. For the first few years, it seemed like a fine arrangement.

Then, without warning, everything seemed to come crashing down all at once. One day I called our tuition management company to ask about a student, and I was told that I was no longer allowed to discuss anything with them. That was a bit of a shock, considering I was the one who set the account up for us and my partner never had any reason to speak with anybody there. I enrolled our students, did all the paperwork, and submitted the agreements. So what was going on?

Some bad business, that’s what. This guy began funneling student tuitions directly from our tuition management company into his own personal bank account, and even though he was no longer showing up to teach his classes, he was able to continue to bill them thanks to a contractual loophole. By contract, the students would have to keep paying for the next ninety days and there was nothing I could do. I was beside myself.

Within an hour or so of finding this out, the phone at the Dojo rang. It was the Sheriff’s Department. They informed me that my partner had just filed charges against me for writing checks and signing his name. OK, I’ll admit it, I did. But they were made out to his insurance company, his landlord, and his wife’s doctor. His attorney wanted to pursue 22 charges against me and put me in jail.

Luckily, the detective in town knew me through the in-service training I did for the local Police Department every year. He was the one who called me down to the station to talk with them. It seemed a pretty open and shut case from the detective’s perspective: not a single check had been written that would benefit me directly, and most of the payments were to help my partner and his wife eke out a living. Even when the detective told me I was free to leave, I couldn’t help being a bit shook up!

Knowing there was a conference call with the bike company that day, I rushed back to the Dojo. I made it just in time to hear an unfamiliar voice introducing himself as the new CEO. He didn’t wait long to segue into a somewhat victorious announcement that everyone on the call was fired, including me, because they’d just reached a distribution agreement with a number of major retail outlets. I hung up the phone after the call, filled with anger and feeling sorry for myself. Honestly, my first thought was about the bicycle shop owners in Long Island, my clients and friends, who had been selling the company’s product for generations. These were proud families who had this brand in their blood. It was a commitment much deeper than anything this new CEO could understand. But now here I am, being told that my last responsibility as an employee was to tell these people that large, national chain stores would now be carrying a brand that, previously, had stood by the business their parents had founded? Maybe it was the principles carved into my spirit through the study of Budo that made my first concern be for my customers and not myself, but that’s what I felt. In hindsight, it was a clear indicator of what I would do next with my life, but the day was far from through with giving me signs that change was coming.

I called my wife to give her the news of both the charges being pressed against me and that my career with the bicycle company was suddenly over. When she answered the phone, the tone in her voice was off. Before I got into it, I asked her if everything was alright. She answered with, I’m pregnant.

That moment may not have been the best time to tell her about what was going on, so I decided to wait for a day while, spinning with emotion and total confusion, I tried to figure out what to do next. For me, one of the most relaxing methods of getting my thoughts straight is to clean my Dojo in silence, alone. So that’s what I did.

About an hour into my cleaning and getting my mind around everything that was happening, the Dojo phone rang again. My dad was on the other end, and he didn’t sound right either. In just a few words, he told me my Pa, his father, had passed away. My grandfather was the closest man to me in my life, the one who taught me life’s most important value: unconditional love.

That was it. I’d hit the limit for what I could take in a single day.

Within a few minutes students would begin to show up for class and there I was, sitting curled up in a ball on my green Judo mats, knees to my chest and back to the door so nobody could see my emotional state. Squeezing my eyes together I tried not to cry, but I did, holding my ears and shoving my face between my knees in an attempt to drown out the entire world around me.

That night I taught with a mindset like never before. Usually I’m a strict but animated teacher. I appreciate hard work and accuracy from my students, but don’t celebrate their technique with applause. My Dojo was a real place for them and that night, without them knowing all the discord going on in my life, they trained their asses off for me. There was no question that I stunk of sadness, but there was also persistence. You see, when I stood up from the floor and wiped my face before students entered the Dojo, I realized how privileged I was to be doing what I was doing, to have the types of obligations that very few are ever granted. That obligation was to them, to my teacher, and to our shared heritage that dated back generations.

That night, I chose to make a living teaching Budo, and to do it the right way. Was there a path that wouldn’t result in my school becoming a baby sitting service, or a way to avoid following some cookie cutter program just to stay open? Was it possible to keep the integrity of my Budo intact, to honor the heritage, preserve the Bushido, and not be forced into a commercial abyss? Could I do this and provide for my new family?

Those were a few of the questions I asked myself, but many of the answers I sought were based on my own values. I’d never tried to make money teaching martial arts before, not really. I’d always taught with a focus on preserving the traditions